


HEART to HEART!: An Intervention

by NachtGraves



Series: Tumblr Prompts [8]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Tumblr Prompt, the title is a love live song, time skip, victor has a problem, yuuri is done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 09:40:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11506740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NachtGraves/pseuds/NachtGraves
Summary: In which Victor discovers Love Live! the game and Yuuri is one tap away from murder.





	HEART to HEART!: An Intervention

**Author's Note:**

> My research for this was my roommate who I have learned, during brainstorming ideas for this prompt, is even more trash than I had thought. She hid the fact that she's still obsessed with this game for a year and half. And if she's reading this, stop. Title is, again, courtesy of her. 
> 
> Prompt: Rhythm
> 
> Hit me up on [Tumblr](http://nachtgraves.tumblr.com).

Yuuri’s outside Narita airport, staring at the arrivals display and waiting for Victor’s flight number to show up on the screen. He knows that Victor’s going to be grumpy and disheveled and exhausted from his delay-ridden journey back to Japan from Geneva.

Victor had the worst luck on his travels back. His first delay, from Geneva to Warsaw wasn’t all that bad since it was only an hour and he had Chris to keep him company before he went through security. It was the two hour-turned-almost ten hour layover in Warsaw that Yuuri worried about. As great as having a Russian passport is for travel purposes, Poland was not one of the many places in which Victor could acquire a visa on arrival to kill time between his flights. The poor man was stuck in the Warsaw airport for almost half a day, right before a ten and a half hour flight.

Victor’s flight number flashes on the display and Yuuri presses closer to the metal fence that is meant to keep family and friends and greeters away from the doors. There’s a steady stream of people coming out of the airport – families, business people, tourists, couples – but no international figure skater. Yuuri clenches his phone in his hand, debating on texting or calling his fiancé.

“What’s going on?” Yuuri wonders as the arrivals trickle down to a few stragglers before a new crowd comes through the doors. He gives Victor another ten minutes, another flight has landed and the crowds have thinned out again, before he calls him.

“ _Yuuri!_ ” Victor picks up almost immediately, which only turns Yuuri’s worry into confusion.

“Where are you?” Yuuri asks. “I was getting worried something happened.”

 _“Oh, sorry! I lost track of time. I’ll be out in a minute._ ” Victor hangs up before Yuuri can even open his mouth to respond.

Sure enough, Victor comes strolling through the doors within the next few minutes, his suitcase rolling behind him. Yuuri waves, feeling relief and happiness at seeing his fiancé after the last week or so of quick Skype calls that were interrupted by Chris and nosy Katsuki family members more often than not. But Victor seems preoccupied by whatever he’s doing on his phone.

“Victor!” Yuuri calls out, hoping the Russian looks up. He’s on uneven footing. Victor’s never behaved like this when they haven’t seen each other for a while. Usually, Victor’s one of the first through the doors and engulfs a squawking, red-faced, Yuuri in a hug the Japanese skater enjoys but is also deeply embarrassed by, especially in public where there’s a chance people know _his_ face, never mind Victor’s.

Victor doesn’t look up and nearly walks into a family clustered around their luggage, figuring out where they need to go.

Yuuri heads toward Victor, waving, and finally gets the man’s attention. “Victor!”

“Ah, Yuuri, I missed you!” Victor lets go of his suitcase and Yuuri is pulled into a familiarly embarrassing embrace. He feels the hard edge of Victor’s phone at his back. Victor pulls back, his smile soft with fatigue at the edges, eyes ringed red, and darkened shadows set above his cheekbones. “Chris says hello. He wished you could have come visit, too.”

“I’ll try to next time. And, uh, I missed you, too,” Yuuri says, cheeks warm despite the late fall chill. He squirms out of Victor’s hold but doesn’t stray too far. “Come on, let’s go home. You can sleep in the car.”

Yuuri takes Victor’s bag from him and they head to the parking lot. Yuuko and Takeshi let him borrow their car so Victor and Yuuri wouldn’t have to deal with the train and being recognized. It’s not often an issue, but Yuuri would altogether rather avoid any such possibilities. Plus, Victor could rest easier in the car than in a noisy, hour long train ride.

Victor’s luggage goes into the trunk and Yuuri slides into the driver’s seat. Victor is buckled in and on his phone again before Yuuri can even start the car. Whatever he’s doing, he is completely focused. Yuuri has no idea what Victor could be doing, but it looks like a game, with the way his phone is tilted and the rapid tapping motion of his thumbs.

“What are you playing?” Yuuri asks, most of his attention on the road, but part of it, as always, drifting to the man beside him. He hasn’t seen the Russian in nearly two weeks.

“I downloaded this music game while I was stuck in Warsaw,” Victor says. His thumbs tap faster before he curses in Russian and drops his phone in his lap. “It’s fun when it’s not frustrating.”

Yuuri just laughs, unaware.

* * *

It starts small. Victor playing on his phone when they’re lounging around. When they’re waiting for their food when they go out to eat. When Yuuri’s in the shower and Victor waits on the bed for his turn.

And then it’s constant. Victor’s hardly ever _not_ on his phone. He’s got his earbuds in his ears more often than not and he makes people _wait_ until he’s done with a song to respond properly, especially if he’s on a super hard or whatever difficulty.

Yuuri doesn’t even know if Victor sleeps with how often he’s playing the game, but he’s fairly certain of the answer to that question. He’s just afraid to ask and be right.

But it comes to a head when Yuuri wakes up somewhere around three or four, almost a week since Victor’s return from Geneva. There was no real reason for him to wake up, and he could have fallen right back to sleep, but his ears pick up rapid tapping, as if someone were texting in a rush with far too much aggression. Yuuri rolls over in bed and Victor is sat up against the headboard, earbuds in his ears, and face illuminated by his phone screen. His brow is furrowed in concentration and his thumbs move rapidly against the screen. Yuuri’s pretty sure that when he went to bed, Victor was on his side breathing deeply.

“Victor.” Yuuri says his name, in both disbelief and complete bewilderment. Victor doesn’t hear him. “Victor!”

“One minute, I almost perfected this,” Victor says, each word drawn out and padded with enough ellipses on either side to let Yuuri know that Victor was far too concentrated on his stupid music tapping game.

Yuuri reaches over and snags Victor’s phone from his hands, yanking Victor’s earbuds from his ears in the process. He feels a slight hint of vindication at the yelp of pain from his fiancé that turns into a howl of anguish as the game carries on without Victor’s obsessed fingers.

“Yuuri, what are you _doing_?!” Victor devolves into frantic Russian that Yuuri doesn’t understand a word of, but can gather the general gist of cursing and disbelief and panic from the other man’s tone.

When Victor reaches over, trying to get his phone back, Yuuri leans further away and holds down the power button, hurriedly swiping across the screen to shut the device off completely. Victor doesn’t stop trying to get his phone back like a man possessed, which, he pretty much is. Possessed by fictional, cutesy, high school girls. Yuuri needs to learn to stop being surprised by how much of a loser his fiancé actually is.

Victor is practically inconsolable. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been practicing that one? I was doing perfect! The event is almost over and I am _so_ _close_ to getting this one card that I need to idolize. That was the last of my LP and now I have to buy more hearts and—”

“Victor—” Yuuri claps his hands on Victor’s cheeks, squishing his face and cutting the Russian off—“Breathe. Calm down. And please tell me you haven’t spent an obscene amount of money on a _phone game_.”

With Victor’s face smooshed between Yuuri’s palms, Victor can only cast his eyes downwards. Yuuri tenses his arms when Victor tries to turn his head away, keeping it in place. He presses his hands deeper into Victor’s face, forcing the man lips to purse like a cartoon fish.

Victor tries to speak, say Yuuri’s name, but it comes out as a plaintive whine of _Juuvbi_.

“Victor,” Yuuri says, staring the Russian dead on. “You have a problem. And it needs to stop.”

Victor rolls his eyes, or does so as much as he can with his face squished. He responds, but Yuuri can’t understand a word the idiot his saying so he relaxes his grip on his face.

“I do not have problem, _solnyshko moyo_.” Yuuri fails at fighting the shudder that crawls up his spine and brings heat to his face. He narrows his eyes at the gleam in Victor’s.

“No,” Yuuri says, “you’re not allowed to do that.”

Victor, feigning ignorance, tilts his head and nuzzles into Yuuri’s palm. “What?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Yuuri attempts to maintain his firm resolve, but his hold weakens as Victor turns his head to press half his mouth into Yuuri’s palm, lips pursed.

“You’ll have to spell it out for me, _solnyshko moyo_.” Victor repeats the endearment in a tone deeper and softer, mouth forming the syllables against Yuuri’s skin in teasing brushes.

Yuuri tries to hold onto his glare but Victor presses a kiss into the lower part of his palm, just above the quickening pulse in his wrist, and Yuuri’s arms go slack.

“Victor.” Yuuri narrows his eyes, but his voice wavers. He’s losing and both he and Victor know it. Victor’s eyes flash beneath his fallen bangs. Yuuri gulps.

“Yuuri,” Victor drawls in return and slips into Russian. Yuuri’s managed to learn a few phrases and words over the course of their relationship, especially when Victor’s in a certain _mood_. He picks up mentions of skin and touch and mouth and tongue and as per usual, Yuuri finds his body doing that melty thing it tends to do around Victor and affection, even though he knows better.

Victor hovers over him and Yuuri falls back onto his pillow, framed by Victor’s arms on either side of his head. Yuuri’s hands slide from Victor’s face to the nape of his neck as Victor lowers himself, reducing the distance between the two.

When Victor’s resting on his elbows, nestled between Yuuri’s parted legs, Yuuri arches up for a kiss and Victor comes down easily to meet him. Most nights—or afternoons, or evenings, or mornings—the two would follow the motions into some form of sex that typically leaves one of them smug and the other too blissed out to care. From the way Victor is kissing him, grinding down and pressing Yuuri into the bed, Yuuri figures he would be the latter this time.

But then he feels something moving under his head, beneath his pillow. Victor’s kisses become lazy, but not in the way of languid, easy, post-orgasm cuddling kisses. He’s distracted. The hand is searching.

The noise that rumbles from Yuuri’s throat is one that is best described as a growl, not unlike that of a disgruntled small animal. He nips hard at Victor’s lip, far from playful.

“I can’t believe you,” Yuuri scowls, pushing Victor off of him and back over to his side of the bed. Victor is too startled by the bite and Yuuri’s sudden aggression to do more than fall back. Yuuri grabs his pillow and after a second of hesitation yanks the fluffy quilt from the bed as well. He leaves the bedroom without a word and heads straight to the couch, adjusting the pillows and setting up for the night. He’s probably overreacting a bit, but Yuuri is fed up and he refuses to continue to compete with a _phone game_.

Makkachin comes padding up to him and Yuuri pauses in making his couch-bed to pet the dog.

“Your owner is an idiot,” Yuuri confides to the poodle.

Makkachin just nuzzles against Yuuri’s hands and legs before plopping down near the couch as Yuuri continues to make his bed for the night.

Yuuri’s just about to lie down and make himself comfortable when Victor clears his throat from somewhere behind him. Yuuri refuses to turn around on principle and decides that the pillows could be arranged better and proceeds to do so.

He ignores the sound of Victor shuffling up closer as he shakes out the stolen blanket. Makkachin gets up, tail wagging, as she goes to greet Victor. As Victor gets onto the couch, he makes the mistake of caving and looking at Victor.

The Russian is standing barely a few feet away from the couch, hands in the pockets of his flannel pyjama pants, shoulders hunched inwards, and head ducked apologetically. His lips are pursed into a wobbly pout of remorse.

“Yuuri…” Victor comes closer until he’s standing over Yuuri, who’s snuggled up on the couch, blanket wrapped around him. Yuuri, unable to maintain a completely icy demeanor because it’s Victor, and Victor will always be a weakness, glances up and waits.

Victor rubs the back of his neck. “I’m sorry,” he says. Makkachin looks between the two of them before huffing and slipping inside of the bedroom.

“Mhmm,” Yuuri feigns disinterest and shakes out his blanket some more. “I’m tired, Victor.”

Victor seems to hunch even more in on himself. “I’m sorry.”

At the apology, Yuuri meets Victor’s eyes, finally and the kicked puppy look breaks his resolve. He sighs. “I’m overreacting—”

“No, no!” Victor cuts in. “I…have realized that my, obsession, with the game is—was not good. I have spent an _embarrassing_ amount of money on that game and I deleted the game. I promise to never download it or anything like it again.”

Yuuri’s only reaction is to lift one end of the blanket. “I’m sleepy and tired and I’m pretty sure Makkachin has taken over the bed.”

Victor grins and wastes no time in crawling in with Yuuri. They shuffle around until they are more or less comfortable and snuggled together with Yuuri lying more on Victor than the couch.

“ _Prosti, solnyshko moyo_ ,” Victor says, pressing his lips to Yuuri’s forehead.

Yuuri tilts his head up to return the kiss, eyes closed. “Hush. Sleep. It was just a game and I still love you.”

Victor kisses him one last time, returning the sentiment in Russian, as they curl up and fall asleep.

* * *

The two are woken up far too early the next morning by Makkachin feeling lonely and plopping herself on top of Victor and Yuuri.


End file.
